I'm not famous so I shouldn't be recognised in the street. But I was when I arrived outside The Biltmore Mayfair, an opulent five-star hotel named after the prestigious London neighbourhood it's located in.
'Good day, Mr. Reid,' smiled a smartly dressed man beside the hotel's doorman. 'I'm Francis, and I will be your butler during your stay.'
Huh? I'd just hopped off my folding bike, baseball cap hiding much of my face, and had yet to say anything other than 'hi'.
I was with my son, Josh, on his full-size bike. We were three hours early for check-in, about to seek permission to stash our dusty bikes and scruffy bags before heading off to the Roman Army exhibition at the British Museum. I was not expecting to be name-checked.
'How did you know who I was?' I asked Francis, shaking his hand and getting a cupped handshake in return. 'We know all of our VIPs,' replied Francis with another smile.